Word: Bel-esprit
...
"You're really not funny, Stiles," Derek muttered, sighing heavily.
It was almost one in the morning, they'd just survived a vampire attack, and Stiles decided he had too much energy to go to sleep yet. Everyone else had been exhausted and left, so Derek was sitting down and trying to breathe while Stiles ran around to work off his excess energy. Now Stiles was trying to do a handstand on the edge of the Beacon Hills Town Square fountain, which Derek wasn't entirely pleased about because Stiles was a mess of flailing limbs at the best of times.
"Hey, take that back! I am a freaking bel-esprit!" Stiles called, grinning as he successfully completed his handstand, lifting himself higher, his arm muscles strained and clear through his shirt.
"Bel-esprit? Is that French or Latin?" Derek asked, distracted momentarily as Stiles' shirt slipped down his body.
Derek silently thanked gravity for her splendid work, his gaze drawn to the clenched muscles on Stiles' stomach. He'd grown so much stronger than Derek had ever thought possible. He still couldn't complete a run with Isaac and Scott, but Stiles now managed to keep a steady pace and finished the run without looking like he wanted to die.
"Both, actually, and it's meant to be English too, but I don't trust the originality of the English language... Want to bet I can walk on my hands?" he called.
"Not really, no."
"I bet I can," Stiles mused, as if Derek hadn't answered, and slowly turned his body so he could attempt to walk on his hands along the cool fountain tiles.
Derek watched as Stiles' ass tightened as he tried to keep his legs straight up in the air, and he stood to pace and redirect his thoughts to anything other than the tight material around Stiles' ass and groin. "You're going to hurt yourself," he called.
"I just survived a vampire attack, Der. I think I'll survive this," Stiles called. "But, uh, can you hold my legs?" he added.
Even from this distance, Derek could see how red Stiles' face was from all of his blood rushing down to his head. He let out a snarl and rushed forward as Stiles began to tip to one side, and firmly grabbed his legs with a sharply clawed hand before he could fall over.
"I remember it being much easier to get down from a handstand than this," Stiles admitted. "Help me up, Der?"
"Only if you agree not to do this again," Derek replied.
"Grass and soft surfaces only," Stiles agreed.
"And with someone present. You'd probably still find a way to knock yourself out," Derek muttered.
Stiles didn't reply straight away, and Derek looked down to see if he was still alive. He was breathing deeply, eyes closed, and it was only then that Derek realised he was stroking Stiles' ankle with his thumb. Derek moved a hand to Stiles' ribs, telling himself he needed to hold him up properly. Stiles let out a small moan as Derek's warm hand splayed against his cool skin.
"Let me up, Der," he said, starting to feel dizzy now.
Derek made a small noise of agreement and helped him through his handstand so he could stand up. Then he sat on the edge of the fountain and pulled Stiles down into his lap.
"Give yourself a few minutes before you stand up; your face is as red a tomato," Derek muttered, his hands lingering on the small of Stiles' back as he fixed his shirt.
"Mmm," Stiles murmured, resting his head on Derek's shoulder, swinging his legs up so he was sitting with his side against Derek's chest.
He didn't seem to mind, one of his hands resting on Stiles' ankles, as the other traced lazy circles on his back.
"So how do you feel about public PDAs?" Stiles asked, pressing a few light kisses to Derek's stubbled jawline.
"I think I can be persuaded," Derek murmured, his hands sliding higher up Stiles' spine and leg.
"Great, that's good. Very good. What about public sex?" he asked, sounding a bit breathless as Derek started raking his fingernails lightly down his back.
"How public are we talking?"
"Right now? No one around but us," Stiles said, dragging his lips along Derek's neck and nipping at his skin.
"We're across from the police station, Stiles. Not to mention there's at least four cameras, an ATM, and a store's internal camera that can see us very easily," Derek murmured, tilting Stiles face up to kiss him properly.
"Fuck it. Public indecency's a small price to pay."
Derek raised an eyebrow at Stiles for that one. "I'm still a person of interest, remember? I get into trouble - especially with the Sheriff's son - then it's more than a fine and a slap on the wrist."
"Ohh, fuck me," Stiles groaned as Derek's hand slid out from under his shirt and moved to cup his ass, squeezing.
"You could've asked for that sooner; we would've worked off all of your excess energy by now," Derek teased.
"You fucker. You never told me that option was on the table. C'mon, let's get out of here before I decide exhibitionism's a thing for me," Stiles said, hopping out of Derek's lap and taking his hand to drag him to the Jeep.
Stiles muttered under his breath, nearly every other word was fuck or some version thereof. Derek sat perfectly still in his seat, only touching Stiles whenever he stopped at a red light or stop sign. Stiles realised this after the second red light when they were still fifteen minutes away from the loft. He put the Jeep in park, and pulled Derek over the gear shift to kiss him senseless. Then, with a determination that Derek usually only saw in Stiles when they were fighting something or someone in the pack was in trouble, Stiles gunned his Jeep and broke every road rule to get to the loft in under five minutes. (It would have taken three if not for the patrol car that Derek saw further up the road and warned Stiles about, making him slow down reluctantly.)
When they were parked in front of the loft, Stiles climbed into Derek's lap, not caring who was around or what cameras there might be, and kissed Derek until they were both breathless. He rolled his hips up against Derek's, and pressed a kiss to his lips lightly, tugging on Derek's hair so he could bite his jaw.
"If you don't get me upstairs in the next thirty seconds, I'm going to blow myself, and you don't get to watch or touch."
Derek licked his lips, tasting Stiles on his tongue, and nodded. It was a threat that they both knew Stiles could follow through on (his workout sessions had proved to show just how flexible Stiles could be, and auto fellatio was one of the first things he'd tried after this discovery), and he opened the Jeep door, putting Stiles over his shoulder.
Derek made it upstairs in twenty-nine seconds.
...
End of word challenge.
Thanks for reading!
